Chapter 16 Suffering and Courtship
Suffering and Courtship
The rhythmic thud of gloved fists against leather resonated through the dimly lit pugilistic establishment.
Edgar circled Patrick Adams in the ring, their bare torsos glistening with perspiration.
The early morning hour afforded them privacy, the club bereft of patrons save for these two gentlemen, exorcising their frustrations through the noble art of fisticuffs.
Edgar’s jab lacked its customary precision, his movements uncharacteristically languid. Adams deftly evaded the blow, concern evident in his expression as he landed a solid strike to Edgar’s ribs.
“Your mind appears to be elsewhere today, Lancaster,” Adams remarked. “Pray, what troubles you?”
Edgar shook his head, retreating a step to regain his breath. “It is of no consequence. Mere fatigue.”
Adams snorted his disbelief. “Indeed. And I am a man of the cloth.” He lowered his fists, signaling a cessation of their sparring. “I trust this has naught to do with Miss Linde and your recent sojourn to Madame Tansley’s establishment?”
Edgar’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “To what do you refer?”
“Come now, do not feign ignorance,” Adams chided, lightly tapping the duke’s chest. “It is the talk of every scandal sheet in London. ‘Duke of Lancaster Observed Departing Infamous House of Ill Repute.’ What possessed you to act with such indiscretion when you have a lady’s heart to win over?”
Edgar’s brows furrowed. “I know nothing of this. I have not darkened Madame Tansley’s door since February last.”
Adams shook his head, his expression growing grave. “I wonder, then, who is spreading such falsehoods.”
“I presume they are attempting to peddle more papers, or they were misinformed.” Edgar’s countenance darkened, concerned that the article may lower Miss Linde’s opinion of him even further.
Adams nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. I may be overreacting.”
Edgar turned away, his posture rigid. “What have you uncovered about Thornton?”
“He was the illegitimate son of a wealthy baron who lost everything when the nobleman died with a mountain of debt. No relative was willing to take him in, so he lived on the streets until he was accepted into a workhouse. He proved his intelligence, gaining promotion after promotion, and saved enough to purchase passage to India where he labored in mines until he came to own one. Then two. Then three. When he learned of his half sister from his father’s mistress, he funded her publishing venture, placing himself as the proprietor.
He sold his mines and returned to England only recently due to malaria.
It seems that his constitution has improved. ”
Edgar’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I see. And what of his character?”
Adams chose his words carefully. “By all accounts, he is a man of ambition and drive. With respect to female conquests, he seems quite selective. He has set his sights upon Miss Linde, doubling her wage and accompanying her to every literary and political salon of note.”
Edgar flinched visibly. “I do not wish to hear of Miss Linde in the same sentence as that… man.” He sank to the floor as if his bones had turned to lead.
“I confess I find great pleasure in witnessing your renewed vitality after these many years of melancholy.”
Edgar raised his head, startled. “Vitality? When have I demonstrated such exuberance?”
“Even in your moments of uncertainty regarding the lady, you were imbued with a vigor I had not witnessed in years! The last time your countenance bore such animation was when you believed you had unearthed a treasure chest in the cove. Do you recall the incident?”
“Aye. It was revealed to be a ruse perpetrated by your band of miscreants, the chest filled with naught but manure! I had labored to drag the accursed thing for a mile up the cliff face before I pried it open.”
Adams erupted into peals of laughter at the recollection, barely able to articulate his words. “And you… you thought… to take an axe… the resultant spattering…”
Edgar glowered at his friend as Adams clutched his sides, overcome with mirth.
“I ought to have informed your father, that you might receive a sound thrashing,” Edgar grumbled.
“Then your own sire would have administered a lashing for your lack of loyalty to a friend,” Adams retorted, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“You were no friend. Merely the son of an exiled nobleman.”
“You speak true, we were no friends. We were brothers. You were well aware of the truth. It is why you never breathed a word of the incident to a soul.”
“You were quite mad. What manner of person expends such effort on a mere prank? Had you applied such diligence to your studies, you might have become a productive member of society.”
“More productive than safeguarding the Prince of Bavaria? Being awarded the Victoria Cross?”
“Certainly more productive than deriving amusement from my predicament.”
Adams’ laughter subsided, his expression growing more serious. “Come now, Lancaster. You know full well I take no pleasure in your distress. I merely wish to see you happy once more.”
Edgar sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “And you believe Miss Linde to be the key to my happiness?”
“I believe she has awakened something in you that has long lain dormant,” Adams replied carefully. “Whether she is the key to your happiness or merely the catalyst for change, I cannot say. But I implore you, do not dismiss these feelings so readily.”
Edgar rose to his feet, pacing the room with restless energy. “And what would you have me do? Court a woman so far beneath my station? Invite the scorn and ridicule of the ton?”
Adams watched his friend’s agitated movements, his voice gentle but firm. “I would have you follow your heart, for once in your life. The ton be damned. You are the Duke of Lancaster. If you cannot choose your own path, who can?”
Edgar paused, his hand resting on the mantelpiece. “It is not so simple, Adams. There are expectations, responsibilities…”
“And there is life, Lancaster,” Adams interrupted. “A life that you have denied yourself for far too long. But before you decide if she is worth the risk, there is something you should know.”
Edgar turned to face his friend, his expression grim.
“Mark Evans, he is the manager of the biggest textile factory in these parts. He is also possibly the leader of the Pioneers, although no one knows exactly.”
Edgar’s brows furrowed. “The group which has been in battles with the Widows?”
“That very one. Mark Evans was spotted by my men meeting with Miss Linde on two occasions in a dark alley past midnight.”
The statement hung in the air between them, charged with possibility and fraught with uncertainty. Edgar felt his neck muscles tighten with tension.
“It seems Miss Linde is one of the authors of the reform pamphlets. If I had to guess, she stores the pamphlets at the Metropolitan office, one of the reasons why she lodges there.”
Edgar’s face darkened like a thundercloud as a muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Good Lord! Find out, will you? If the authorities discover her involvement, she could face sedition charges—transportation, or worse.” His voice grew hard with barely controlled fury.
“The foolish woman is risking her life for these causes.”
He began pacing, his agitation evident. “And if she is storing them at the Metropolitan, bring them to my cave for storage. Meet with this Evans fellow and determine how else Miss Linde is involved. I shall step in to keep her safe whether she welcomes my protection or not.”
Adams nodded then said, “I believe you have decided she is worth the risk.”
Exhaling deeply, Edgar replied, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to her and I did nothing to prevent it. I did not comprehend the depth of my affliction until I strived to banish her from my thoughts. Alas, the more I struggle to forget, the more consuming my preoccupation becomes.”
Adams stepped forward, placing a consoling hand on Edgar’s shoulder. “Do you recall the tale your father recounted to us regarding the first Duke of Lancaster?”
Edgar nodded. “I remember he wed his commoner mistress, but the legitimacy of the marriage and their issue endured until his demise. It was not an easy existence for him and his family.”
“But they remained wed and loved one another.”
“Regarding that,” Edgar said, tousling his hair. “Miss Linde has… refused my advances.”
Adams regarded his friend pensively. “And how, precisely, did you advance?”
“Well… I informed her of my desire to bed her.”
Adams snickered. “How have you earned the distinction of a rake when you are so woefully ignorant in the art of courting women?”
“I was overcome with panic. I knew not what to say when she inquired if I would offer for her, but that was not the entirety of her statement. She refused me on the grounds that I am not putting my title and wealth to good use.”
A rare smile graced Adams’ visage. “I find myself admiring that lady, Miss Linde. You must court her properly before Thornton secures her affections.”
Feeling a surge of possessiveness in his breast, Edgar rose to his feet, raising his hands to recommence their pugilistic exercise.
As he and Adams resumed their sparring, perspiration beaded on their brows, their breathing labored yet controlled. The rhythmic sound of fists meeting flesh and the occasional grunt of exertion filled the air.
“Tell me, Lancaster,” Adams said between jabs, “what do you intend to do about your courtship?”
Edgar ducked a swift uppercut, countering with a hook to Adams’ ribs. “Perhaps it’s time to cultivate a new image. One that Miss Linde might find more appealing and believable.”
As they continued their bout, Edgar’s mind raced with possibilities.